Catoptrophobia
by Courtanie
Summary: Kyle is traumatized to the point of utter fear of his own appearance. What can you do to save yourself if you can't even look yourself in the eye?
1. Chapter 1

**_This is part of the 100 Themes of horror that I'm going to split into separate chapters. Yeah :O_**

**_#78 - Catoptrophobia. M for my typical reasons :3_**

**_Enjoyyyy~_**

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><p>It was a gut feeling at the very least. That one that pinches your stomach in a fit of nerves and sends off the voice in the back of your head to the point where it's practically screaming 'RUN! Don't fucking do this, you idiot!'<p>

Kyle Broflovski had a tendency to usually listen to this voice of his. Constantly abiding by what it told him was right and what just seemed too suspicious for it to be the way he should go about doing things.

However, he could find it easily overshadowed by his other tendencies, the ones that told him that he needed to help others, that people he cared about were more important than some unseen voice.

When Eric Cartman told him that their friend Kenny was hurt in the woods, Kyle really couldn't think of any other option than to go with him to help. As they walked, Kyle couldn't help but hear that annoying voice sounding off consistently in his mind. He growled at it a bit as they sped through town before whipping out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" Cartman had asked. "This is not the time to text Marsh."

"I'm texting Kenny," he muttered. "Seeing if he's conscious or whatever. What did you say happened?"

"Idiot fell into a deep ditch," Cartman rolled his eyes. "Hit his head. My arms aren't long enough to pull him out so I'll have to hold you so you can get to him."

"Why me?" he asked warily. "Stan's stronger."

"You're lighter," he scoffed. "I ain't fucking holding Marsh. He's fat."

"Muscled is the word you want," he replied thickly, pressing send after a quick 'Dude, you okay?' text to their blonde friend. "You're the one who's fat."

"Fuck you, Kike," Cartman muttered as they crossed off the pavement and onto the grass heading towards the woods. They sped through, brushing away tree branches and kicking stones out of their way as they tromped through the forest.

"The fuck were you two doing out here?" Kyle demanded.

"Killin' squirrels with stones, _Officer_," he drawled out in annoyance. "Poor boy got carried away and chased one and fell down the hole."

Kyle looked at him in disgust before rolling his eyes. "I guess that he has an excuse, being poor and all. He needs something to occupy his time. You're just a retard apparently," he ended in a monotonous mutter. Cartman scoffed and the smaller redhead looked back up at him. "Where the hell is this ditch, Fatass?"

"Up here," he jerked his head forward. Kyle saw a clear dip in the forest floor as they approached the area. They came up over the edge of the hole and Kyle surveyed around, finding no sign of their misfortunate companion anywhere.

"Where is he?" he asked slowly, scanning the ground. No footprints. No signs of struggles to get out of the ditch. Nothing but smooth dirt and grass. "Cartman you fucking lia-" he turned up at him, stopping as he saw a blade in his face. His jaw dropped just slightly as he looked past the band of silver up into the chocolate eyes of his opposer.

"You're gullible as hell, aren't you, Jew?" he chuckled lowly. "One little word of Poor-boy or Stanny being hurt and you wanna play rescue. How adorable," he mocked, batting his lashes.

"The fuck are you pulling?" Kyle blinked, trying to back away a bit. Cartman grabbed his arm and wrenched him back forward roughly, pointing the knife straight at Kyle's Adam's apple. He grazed the skin with the tip and the boy's breath hitched at the touch.

"On the ground," he ordered roughly, poking him a bit.

"Get the fuck off of me," he snarled, trying to rip his arm away. Cartman growled, pulling him back into himself and holding the blade up under his chin. Kyle tilted his head back, letting out a breath of a groan as it was pushed into his throat.

"As I said, Jew," he said calmly. "On the ground or I'll be forced to hurt you...more," he smiled sardonically. Kyle looked at him furiously, his brows knitting together in frustration.

"Get off of me before I grab that thing and castrate you, you sick asshole," he spat. Cartman grinned amusedly.

"I was kinda hoping for that reaction," he nodded. He quickly let go of the smaller boy and slammed his fist into his cheek. Kyle spiraled around with a surprised yelp before the glutton grabbed him back. Kyle opened his eyes, wincing at the pain coursing through his cheekbone and the blood he could taste from the side of his mouth.

"Fuck. You," he gritted his teeth. Fighting out of his grip and punching Cartman back. Cartman merely stumbled before regaining his stance and shoving his knife into his pocket. He reached forward, grabbing Kyle's wrists before he could react and pulling him back towards himself.

"This wouldn't be nearly as fun if you just took it, would it?" he laughed evilly.

"What the hell..." Kyle murmured before letting out an aggravated screech. "Lemme go, Fatass!" he cried out, thrusting around and kicking out at his holder. Cartman smiled, letting him struggle around a bit more before letting go of one wrist and punching him again. Kyle cried out, reflexively raising his free arm to cup his injured eye. Cartman hit him again in his stomach and the boy started dropping in pain.

"There ya go," Cartman cooed through the boy's groans. "Just go down and it'll be over before you know it," he chuckled. Kyle growled, trying to regain his stance to fight again before Cartman's knee came up into his nose. He screamed, tasting the blood flowing down past his lips as his legs gave out underneath him. He collapsed onto the forest floor, one arm still secured by the fat one while his other came up to protect his face and cup his injured nose.

Cartman grinned wider, kneeling down beside him and pushing his arm down onto the ground, shoving the boy onto his back and straddling overtop of him. Kyle screamed, uncovering his bloodied, swollen face and trying to swing his fist into the glutton's mouth wildly. "LET GO!" he shouted angrily. Cartman grabbed his other wrist and held him down against the ground forcefully, surveying him up and down. Kyle blushed, his green eyes burning with fury.

"I. Will. Kill. You," he breathed out.

"Somehow I doubt that," he grinned slyly. He dragged Kyle's arms up over his head and pushed them down with one of his massive palms. He slowly reached towards his jacket pocket, making sure Kyle watched his every move before pulling out a half-used roll of duct tape. Kyle's eyes widened and he looked up at the brunette in shock.

"What...what are you doing?" he questioned blankly. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Cartman ignored him, clenching the tape in his teeth. He leaned up, grabbing Kyle's waist forcefully and making him scream out in discomfort before flipping him over onto his stomach. Cartman grabbed his arms in both hands again, forcing them behind his back and placing them against each other. He let one of his hands travel back up to grab the tape in his teeth as Kyle shifted around wildly, shouting various swears and angry insults. Cartman didn't retort, instead ripping up the end of the tape and starting it down over Kyle's slim wrists. The redhead gasped in panic as he felt himself being restrained, struggling to free himself from the heavyweight settled atop his slender hips.

"Cartman!" he protested. "Cartman no! Stop!" He felt the skin of his wrists being stretched and pulled taut. "YOU FATASS LEMME GO!" he belted out at the top of his lungs. Cartman paused, glaring at him. He reached up, slamming his fist down into his face again on the other cheek. Kyle's head pulsed with pain and he let out a long whine, settling his face against the cool, hard ground.

"Keep quiet, Jew," Cartman stated, finishing with binding his arms together. He smiled, "Just one more thing..." he stated, ripping off a strip. He ripped Kyle's head up by his hair, smacking the tape down atop his blood-coated lips. Kyle groaned, shaking underneath him before the brunette threw his head back down onto the ground. He teared up slightly, looking at Cartman who was admiring his handiwork. "Perfect," he licked his lips.

Kyle cringed at his hungry stare, growling at him as his hand traveled along his spine and hips. His other hand grabbed his knife from his pocket, trailing the Jew's neck teasingly in a whisper. Cartman leaned his weight back on top of the boy, holding down his shoulder and staring at him as he trailed the knife back up through his hair. Kyle shook his shoulders back and forth angrily, letting out a pained groan as Cartman dug his hips down onto him. He felt a sharp sting across the side of his neck and shut his eyes in pain as he felt the knife slice his tender skin. His warm blood traveled down over his flesh and he couldn't control his shudder.

Cartman chuckled lowly, running the knife down as he moved down atop the redhead's thighs. He traced the blade down, slicing through the denim atop his hip. Kyle's eyes widened and he started thrashing around frantically. The knife punctured through his skin and he groaned before he felt his jeans being pulled down around his thighs brashly. He fought off tears, trying to wriggle out form under the heavyweight.

"There, there, Kahl," he said lowly with a smile. Kyle's green eyes darted around, looking for some means of escape nearby. He found nothing but grass and trees too far to aide him in anyway. He let out a long-pitched whine as he felt pudgy fingers trailing over his bare skin. He dug his toes into the ground, trying desperately to get away from their touch. Cartman ran his finger down over his ass before roughly pushing a thick finger inside of him. Kyle screamed through the tape, tears of pain glazing over his pupils. The brunette laughed, "I always did say that you were a tightass, Kahl," he purred, thrusting his finger into him. Kyle tensed up uncomfortably, trying to pry his wrists apart. He slammed his cheek into the ground, refusing to let any tears fall as he could hear the clear sound of Cartman's zipper in the clearing. He winced as his face throbbed in throes of pain along with his ass as Cartman pushed in another finger and started scissoring him strongly.

Kyle lifted his hips up slightly, trying to ward him off and push away. He groaned from behind his gag, silently crying. The invading fingers were removed and he blinked a bit before realizing what was coming next and being thrown into pure panic. Cartman raised up on his thighs slightly, staring down on the restrained boy and stroking himself in anticipation. Kyle took advantage of the momentary removal of weight from himself and tried squirming out and away from him. Cartman laughed, suddenly taking the knife and stabbing it into the dirt beside his nose.

The green-eyed boy yelped in surprise before shooting his gaze up towards the brunette. Cartman leaned down over him and took a deep, contented breath. "Going somewhere, Kahhlll?" he drug out. Kyle could feel his hardened flesh pressing against him and he whimpered softly, shutting his eyes as Cartman's breath washed over him. He felt a sharp pain as Cartman thrust his hips forward and impaled him. He arched up with a long groan before being shoved back onto the ground.

Cartman chuckled, starting to push into him and keeping him sliding along the ground. Kyle sobbed out brokenly, shaking erratically beneath him. Cartman panted, bringing his blade up and placing it precariously over his brow before cleanly slicing downwards. Kyle cried out as he felt the blood seeping down his face, running over his marked chin as he was pushed into the hard ground. He screamed, bucking his torso upwards to try to throw the glutton of his thin frame. Cartman growled, putting his knife aside and pressing Kyle back onto the ground with firm, thick hands. He dug his dulled nails into Kyle's arms, keeping him firmly planted against the ground as he pressed on.

"Good Jew," he murmured. Kyle merely groaned with each thrust, feeling his arms as they began to bruise under Cartman's crushing hold. The redhead took rapid breaths through his nose, trying to contain the monstrous thudding of his heart. He felt a tear travel down his unmarred eye, quickly shaking it away and furrowing his brow. He cringed down into himself all he could before he felt Cartman pushing into him faster, his intrusion easier on himself as he kept Kyle firm against the grass and dirt. Kyle sniffled softly, trying to restrain his cries as the burning became nearly unbearable. It shot up through his system, continually settling in his pounding head as it slid through the dirt and gravel.

One of Cartman's hands left his shoulder and intertwined in the soft red curls upon his head. He pressed his face as far into the dirt as he could, laughing at him as he struggled to push his way up for a breath. Kyle mumbled incoherently in near-desperation as his air was cut, his chest aching from the out of control pounding of his fear and anger. He felt his hips being lifted off the ground slightly and Cartman starting to beat into him harder with each movement. He groaned softly, trying to shake the brunette's hand off of his head.

Cartman hummed amusedly between his animalistic grunting before running his hand down through the boy's wild hair and grabbing his still-bleeding neck in a vice grip. He squeezed his fingers ever-so-slowly making him choke quietly behind his silencer. He could see tears leaking out of the boy's eyes and his own went mad with hunger as he pushed as far into him as he could, not giving him but a second to try to adjust to his attack.

He closed his eyes in the thin mountain air, hearing Kyle let out a soft cry from the back of his throat. Cartman's eyes rolled back and he moaned at the sound of him, pushing harder before releasing with a long, drawn-out shudder deep inside of his captive. Kyle choked out in disgust, his body twitching in shock. Cartman dropped him, letting his hands fall to the sides of the boy's head as he panted, staring at him with an evil smile.

Kyle shook a bit before turning his head and locking stares with his attacker. He narrowed his eyes after a few moments, clearly holding more tears from falling down his purple and bleeding face. Cartman grinned wider, pulling out of him and putting himself back into his jeans. He watched the face of the Jew carefully, the fury and hatred under the bruises. He watched the heavy raising and falling of his shoulders as he panted, the way his legs curled together protectively as blood and cum trailed down his inner thighs.

"Well," he stated loudly, cracking his fingers and grabbing his knife, playing with it in his hand a bit. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

Kyle didn't so much as blink at him, still staring with a twinge of utter disbelief underlying the hate-infused glower.

Cartman just smiled cheekily, bending down and grabbing Kyle's bound wrists and ripping him up onto the side of his legs. They stared at each other before the brunette chuckled. "Ya know, that's a good look for you, Kahl," he purred. "Not talking back and all that...you're just the way that you should be," he stated. "Honestly didn't think it'd be that easy, but you're just a weak little Jew, ain't ya?" he asked tauntingly. "You've lost it the past few years," he laughed.

Kyle blinked at him a bit, twitching to get away from him before Cartman raised his fist, slamming it into the side of the boy's head. He fell over in shock, paralyzed to do so much as cry out. Cartman grabbed him back up quickly, cutting a small tear in the duct tape of his wrists before throwing him to the side, watching him tumble down the steep ditch to the rocks and dirt below.

Kyle groaned as he raised his head from the side of a rock, looking at it through his bruising eye to see a large smear of red coating the side of the stone. He felt a new set of pains shooting around his body and lurched uncomfortably, glancing back up to see Cartman waving before he turned and began walking away in loud laughter. He looked back down in front of him, trying to even out his shaky breaths and calm his racing heart. He gulped, twisting and tearing his arms behind him until he felt the duct tape loosening on his restraint. He finally brought his appendages back in front of him, blinking and rubbing his skin blankly. He looked down at his massaging hands, watching as they shook uncontrollably, brushing over his reddened and damaged skin with caution.

"_Breathe,_" he told himself, shutting his eyes. He forced a deep breath through his nose, raising his shaking fingers and starting to tear off the duct tape strewn over his lips. He took a much-needed deeper breath, feeling another sob work its way up but refusing to let it pass through his freed lips. He coughed out the rest of the breath, his shoulders trembling as he did so.

"Fuck," he said in a whisper, his twitching fingers feeling around his face. He felt pain. A lot of it. He could feel his face unnaturally larger than usual, blood trailing down his numb cheeks and chin. He brushed some off of him, cringing as he went over a sensitive spot. He winced, looking down at his hips and exposed thighs. He could see bruises starting all over his pale skin. He raised his shirt slightly, finding his waist in just as bad of condition. "...Fuck," he shook his head, coughing out a soft sob before quickly straightening himself back up.

Crying wasn't going to make it go away.

He groaned as he made himself sit up on his knees, pulling his jeans back up and holding them by the slit that Cartman had made in the material. He looked back up the steep slope leading out of the ditch and let out a long breath. He hobbled over to the dirt, falling down on his knees again at the edge before gritting his teeth and starting to fight his way up. He grimaced with each push of his legs, with each outstretch of his arms. His fingernails dug into the dirt, little pebbles tore at his sensitive skin and unleashed new waves of sharp pains. He closed his eyes, ignoring them as he pressed onwards, slipping on his footing occasionally before taking a short stop, catching his breath, and pushing upwards again. He gulped heavily as he felt himself elevated from the unforgiving ground, felt himself as he fought his way back from his wounded state. He continued his way up, forcing himself to breathe and remain under control. He didn't know what he could do otherwise.

He finally, after what seemed like an eternity, made it to the top of the slope. He collapsed onto his side, fighting for air and curling into himself in the midst of his vulnerability. He sniffled, shaking and clasping his arms as he remained on the ground in terror of Cartman coming back for him again. He couldn't fight him back...he couldn't do it...He felt tears dripping over the bridge of his nose, unable to stop them as they poured out in droves.

"_He won...I lost...I lost.._." he cried to himself. He sobbed out a few more times before opening his bloodshot emerald eyes and staring at the woods in front of him. He let out a shuddery breath before pushing himself onto his legs. His vision blurred in dizziness for a moment before he got to his feet and held his arms out to stabilize himself. He took a deep, calming breath, holding the tear of his jeans together as he limped out of the woods.

He could feel Cartman's release, his own blood trailing his legs as he walked. He shut his eyes to the feeling, refusing to acknowledge its existence. This was just a bad dream after all...there was no way that'd happened. He was hallucinating after a nasty fall...that had to be it. He took a few steps at a time as he stumbled onwards. He held out his hand, placing it against a tree to help himself as he moved, his mind lost in a daze.

He couldn't have won...Cartman was wrong. He wasn't any weaker than before...because this couldn't be real. There was no way that this had happened to him. He shut his eyes tightly as he went tree by tree to get out of the woods and back towards the town.

He felt a slight buzz in his pocket atop his bruised hip and came to a stop, staring down at it for a moment. He reached in slowly, not fully aware of doing it, pulling out his cell phone. He slid it open to reveal a small blinking envelope, Kenny's name next to it.

He opened it, his heart sinking as he read '_What? I'm fine. Why?_'

He let out a long cry, clutching the phone tightly in his torn fingers as he fell onto his knees, leaning against a tree and shaking uncontrollably in convulsive sobs.

'_It was real...It was real..._'

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><p><strong><em>Chapter 2 will be out soon :3<em>**

**_Thanks for R&Ring~  
><em>**


	2. Chapter 2

The walk back to his home was long and cold. He took the way out of view of the town, through the backyards of his neighbors and hidden in the shadows. He couldn't let anyone see him. Too many questions would be asked. Too much would happen.

He finally was able to sneak up around his house to his front door without anyone spotting him. He grabbed the spare key from behind the mailbox and fumbled as he tried to get it through the knob; His shaking hands making it nearly impossible before he held the tip against the metal and simply slid it around until it fell into the keyhole. He took a deep breath and unlocked it, pushing it open and throwing the key back into its hiding place. He quickly slid through the door and enclosed himself in his house, re-locking the door and taking a deep, needed breath.

He looked around the darkened room, grateful for the quiet. His family was gone on vacation, out to Tennessee for a few weeks. He had begged to just stay home where he was comfortable, where he felt the safest...He bit his lip and struggled away from the door, grasping the handrail at the foot of the stairs and starting to pull himself up each step with winded effort. He could feel caked blood all around him, weighing him down in realization, in the pure, bitter truth.

He finally made it up the flight and ended with a wavering gasp of air. He turned his head, his body automatically heading towards the bathroom. He stepped into the small, tiled room, shutting the door and locking it behind him out of habit before leaning against it. He looked across the way to the shower in front of him, slowly stepping towards it. He passed the sink and mirror, catching part of himself in his peripheral vision and freezing. He bit his lip, grabbing Ike's spare towel hanging from the rack beside him and throwing it over the glass, refusing to let himself see the condition that he was in.

He started up the shower and slowly tore his clothing off. He stared down at himself as he stood in the middle of the room as the sound of running water overpowered his thoughts. He ran his fingers over the large bruises around his hips and frowned, shaking his head slightly in his disbelief. He looked back towards the shower, holding onto the wall as he stepped into the downpour, letting it beat against his sensitive skin and wincing. He brought up his hands and rubbed them over his swollen cheeks, feeling the caked blood loosening slightly, starting to run down his face. He took a shuddery breath reaching over to his side and grabbing his shampoo bottle, dumping a mess of it into his palms and lathering it through his thick, scarlet curls. As he rubbed, he looked down and paused.

Red.

So. Much. Red.

He could hardly believe it as it came down his face and chest, down his thighs and around the floor of the shower. He watched it swirl and ebb as it finally all came to a stop, plummeting down the drain in a steady stream. He hissed as he felt a sharp pain, bringing his hands down to inspect any damage. He found the skin broken once again and pouring more of the rubies down his forearms, falling off at his elbows. He sniffled, watching as it all fell away from him, his very life just dripping away in the swells of tap water. He clasped his arms tightly, shutting his eyes as the steaming water continued to beat down onto his wounds, as it continued to wash away what it could.

"Take it all away," he pled to the water, opening his eyes slightly to see yet more red running down his legs. He stared at his bruises, at his swollen cheeks and shook his head. "All of it," he whispered, staring intently at the wounds. He let out an angry, shuddery breath as they remained as they were. He looked back up towards the water, feeling the shampoo running out of his hair and shaking in the scalding drops as they fell onto him.

It hurt...he hurt...it wasn't just a nightmare...He shook his head again, bowing his chin down into his chest and huddling into himself. He stared, completely motionless at the water underneath him until it finally began to run clear. He sniffled as he saw that the marks were still there, that his skin was still bruised, that the cuts on his neck and face still stung.

He squeezed out some tears, lost in the cascading shower water before he quickly coughed them away and wiped his eyes. He shut off the water slowly, feeling everything still dripping off him as he remained frozen for a few moments. Kyle reached out of the shower, grabbing his towel and pulling it back into the warm area. He ran the cotton over his arms, wincing at the fingermarks in his biceps before drying off the rest of himself. He raised the towel to his face, his fingers just barely touching his cheek before he hissed and wrenched it away. He settled into a sad pout, gently running the material up through his hair and shaking it dry.

He stepped out of the shower into the cold air of his bathroom and sighed deeply, shaking his head a bit and letting little droplets fling in every direction. He wrapped the towel around his slim waist, taking a deep breath and glancing at the covered mirror with angry eyes before storming out of the bathroom and heading down the hall towards his own room. He winced at the extra strain he put on his body before sniffling again and pushing open his door.

He stepped inside, grabbing a pair of loose green-plaid pajama pants and slowly sliding them on. He wobbled a bit as he regained his footing and shook. A glint caught his eye and he looked to see his dresser mirror gleaming in the sun. It reflected his bed and his window, the sunlight peeking at it, as though trying to illuminate it to his vision. He growled a bit, grabbing a spare black sheet from his closet and draping it over the large mirror, keeping his eyes from it and taking some shaky breaths as he backed away from it. He stared at the dark covering before closing his heavy curtains and letting the room become enveloped in darkness.

He shakily sat down on his bed, cringing at the pressure on his legs and the sharp pain that ran from his ass up his spine. He groaned, slowly laying himself down on his side, his back facing his door as he curled up into himself. He heard his phone beep from the bathroom and ignored it, trying to fight off the throbbing in his cheek as he laid there.

He stared at his wall, blinking slowly as his hand subconsciously went to rub the raw skin of his wrist. He was a mess. He was a disaster and he knew it all-too-well. But he didn't know just what he could do about it.

He could feel his heart beat faster. He didn't have too many options. He could tell someone...but what would that accomplish other than his own humiliation? Kyle Broflovski didn't just _lose_ things. It never happened like that. It couldn't...

He curled further into himself, his raw fingers clenching the cool dark sheets of his bed. He felt a stray tear worm its way out of his burning eyes before he slowly shut them, nuzzling softly into his pillow. The silence of the house filled him uneasiness, but comfort.

No one could know. No one could see him like this. If he couldn't face this reality, they shouldn't be allowed to either. He would just wait...he would wait to heal before coming back out and facing everything.

He would wait for his reality to return.


	3. Chapter 3

A day passed.

He couldn't move. He hurt too much. He shifted atop his mattress all that he could, groaning in pain as sharp strings of agony shot up through his body. His head pounded from his bruises and his cuts, from his constant thoughts as he realized his situation. He was stuck here until the pain went away. Whether from healing or dying, he wasn't sure yet. He wasn't entirely positive which he longed for either.

His phone had been ringing every now and then, he just shut his eyes, telling it to shut up because he couldn't get to it anyway. He opened his eyes to the darkness of his surroundings occasionally, looking to find his hands shaking with hunger and exhaustion, with pain and worry. He was constantly tensed, still somewhat worried that Cartman would just come back and he wouldn't be able to fight him off.

_Again. _

He groaned, hiding his face in his pillow at this thought. His ears perked at the sound of his front door opening. His breath hitched in panic, trying to weigh out his options.

He could lay here and get attacked or someone just come in and find what condition he was in. Both of those seemed like bad options to the redhead.

Closet. If he could make it over, he could hide.

He groaned, trying to plant his hand against his mattress to push himself back up. A sharp pain coursed through his arm and up to his shoulder blade and he yelped, falling back onto the sheets.

"_Kyle?_" he heard from downstairs. His heart settled slightly. Stan's voice. Stan wouldn't hurt him. He had a spare key to get in his house, he trusted him.

"_Dude, I heard a noise_," another voice followed. Kenny. He let out another breath of relief, pausing as he listened for a third voice. He heard two sets of footsteps approaching his door and he tried turning his head, giving up and falling limp again.

"Kyle?" Stan's voice appeared again, his door creaking open. The boys blinked in the darkness before finding Kyle lying on the bed. They looked at each other before Kenny reached over onto the boy's desk, turning on his lamp and shining it towards the redhead.

"Ky?" Kenny asked. They walked over towards him and Stan put a hand on his shoulder. Kenny stared at his bare back, at the fingerprints pressed into his skin along his waist and hips. "Dude," he muttered, elbowing Stan lightly and nodding towards his marred skin.

"Holy fuck," Stan breathed. "Kyle?" he shook him lightly. Kyle groaned in response, knowing all-too-well that they already knew what had happened. He tried hiding his face before Stan's stronger hand rolled him over onto his back. He opened his swollen eyes to find the two of them staring at him with dropped jaws.

"Dude...dude..." Kenny shook his head, running his hand over the swollen bruise on his stomach. He moaned quietly, tilting his head up in a vain attempt to escape his touch.

"Kyle, what the fuck happened?" Stan asked, his voice filled with panic. He let his calloused fingers roam over his knife wounds, careful to avoid the purple swelling of his cheek and eyes.

Kyle looked between the two of his worried friends, his throat swelling with unshed emotion. "M-mugged," he breathed out with difficulty.

"Fuck Kyle, what'd they take?" Kenny questioned.

Kyle sniffled. His dignity. His sanity. His decency...He coughed softly. "I didn't have a-anything," he stated.

"So they just beat you up?" Stan growled protectively, sitting down beside him. Kenny stared at him before looking back down on Kyle, his face falling into pity. He walked over and rubbed his shoulder gently, shaking his head softly.

"You look horrible, Dude," he murmured.

Kyle looked up at him with tired eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, stifling a sniffle. He knew it was true, Kenny didn't have to tell him. He could fucking _feel_ it.

"Dude, have you moved at all?" Stan asked him, staring intently.

"It...It hurts," he whimpered out.

"Fuck, Dude," Kenny shook his head again. "I fucking knew I should have called you after that fucking text," he growled at himself. "I knew something was up...Fuck," he beat his fist on the mattress angrily. Kyle just stared at him as Stan watched the redhead carefully.

"We gotta clean you up," he broke the heavy silence quietly. He gently reached under Kyle's back and sat him back up slowly. Kyle's breath hitched in pain and they both went to help stabilize him. He shook and looked between the both of them pathetically.

"Is...is it that bad?" he asked in a soft whimper. They looked at each other before going back to stare at him.

"Kyle..." Stan looked over at his covered mirror. "Have you seen yourself at all?"

He looked down at his trembling hands and shook his head softly.

Kenny got up off the bed and went over to his dresser, grabbing a small hand mirror and walking back over towards him. "Take a look, Ky," he said softly.

Kyle shut his eyes, shaking, and turned his head. The boys looked at each other again, their eyes full of worry. "Dude, come on," Stan urged, trying to press his chin back towards the mirror.

"N-no," he stammered, turning his chin further away.

"Come on, Kyle," Kenny insisted. "We don't know what needs cleaned up the most, you're the smart one. You can show us," he pressed the mirror closer to him.

Kyle gritted his teeth, shaking horrendously before gathering up some strength and grabbing the mirror from Kenny. He hurled it across the room and they all listened as it slammed into the wall. Stan and Kenny watched it fall to the floor before looking back down at the redhead. He had his eyes shut and tears streaming down his colored cheeks.

"Shit, dude," Stan breathed out. Kyle convulsed out a few quiet sobs before laying back down on the bed, hiding his face in his arms. Kenny sat down next to him, rubbing soothing circles over where his back was clear of marks.

"It's okay, Man," he stated quietly. "We won't make you do anything." The blonde and noirette bit their lips as they looked up at each other.

"_We gotta clean him up," _Stan mouthed.

"_Shut up and let him rest," _Kenny mouthed back. He looked back at him, rubbing his back in larger circles. He looked at the handprints lining the boy's hip and shook his head angrily, gritting his teeth in silence. Stan sat with his legs off the bed, clasping his hands in concentration as he stared out the door.

"Do you know who it was, Ky?" he asked after a lengthy period of nothing but Kyle's sobbing.

"Dude, not now," Kenny hissed.

"Kyle, answer me," he ignored him, staring back at the redhead. Kyle raised his head, looking at his best friend with sunken bloodshot eyes.

"I...I..." he sniffled, dropping his sight to his bed. Kenny ran his fingers through his hair comfortingly and he coughed out a few more cries.

"Do you know what they looked like?" he asked softly, stroking his head still.

He shook his head slowly. "I...I don't know," he lied. "They...g-grabbed me and...blindf-folded me," he stammered out. "I didn't s-see."

His friends' shoulders sunk in disappointment as Kyle laid his throbbing head back down, feeling Kenny's rough fingers comfortingly massaging his skull. They stared at him a few moments more as his eyes slowly closed.

"We're staying the night," Stan announced quietly. The blonde nodded in agreement. Kyle stared at the quiet darkness of his eyelids, feeling a momentary relief as he felt the two of them surrounding him. They would keep him safe, they didn't have to be any the wiser about who it was or what had really happened...

His sore fingers curled into his sheet and he pressed his head up against Kenny's leg, desperate for the closeness, desperate for the protection. He felt his heart sink ever-so-slowly in the moment, creaking his blazing eyes open to the denim of Kenny's jeans. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be strong one, not the comforted...He let out a breath of one more cry before settling down onto the bed. His eyes fell once again and he could hear Kenny and Stan whispering over him, though he didn't have half the mind to make out anything that they were saying. He faded off to the subtle comforts of Kenny's gesture and the closeness of their body heat into quiet darkness.


End file.
